The Suburbs
by welcome to maddieland
Summary: Four years after the incident, Alice is beckoned back to Lillian by Mrs. Kaznyck. Joe/Alice
1. Chapter 1

__Four years after the incident, Alice is beckoned back to Lillian by Mrs. Kaznyck. Joe/Alice

* * *

_Congratulations! You have been selected to participate in Lillian's Carnation Festival as a visiting Duchess._

"Do you know anything about this?" I ask, shoving the letter at Louis. He quickly vets it and throws it back at me, rolling his eyes.

"Damn Jessica Kaznyck," he grunts, finishing off the rest of his Budweiser. "Always trying to tell me how to raise a kid. As if having five or ten or however many she's up to now makes her the expert. Just put down on the form that you can't do it. It's a hell of a lot of money for me, anyway."

I quickly peruse the letter and find that Mrs. Kaznyck is indeed involved with the Carnation Festival—she is listed at the bottom of the letter as the 'Duchess Chairman'.

"Please just throw it away," Louis snaps. He tosses his beer can at the trash bin, misses, and then stomps into the den.

But instead I take the letter and lock myself in my room. Regardless of whether or not I accept this offer, I consider anything from Lillian to be special—sacred, almost. The wall above my desk is dedicated to Lillian: mostly news clippings from that summer, with occasional police reports involving Deputy Lamb. If Louis knew, he'd rip them off and rip them to shreds. But I've told him, time and time again, he's not allowed to enter my room.

We moved to Lima not two months after the incident. We weren't the only ones, either. Crazy Mrs. Babbit got the hell out, and Donny's family moved as well. The boys stayed, though. Preston, Martin, Cary, Charles, and Joe.

I know that Deputy Lamb and my dad reconciled—or at least decided to be hospitable towards each other. But after the incident, Louis couldn't turn a corner in Lillian without getting choked up about my mother, Elizabeth, or the alien. So one morning, I left for Charles's house, excited to edit _The Case_ and flirt with Joe. By the time I returned home that evening, Louis had packed up the house. There was a little house waiting for us in Lima. He had a new construction job.

I was not given time for goodbyes.

After the move, I biked to nearly every library in town trying to find a phonebook for Montgomery County. No such luck. Whenever I tried calling information, Louis made me hang up the phone, growling about how it cost money. Until I could find the money and the resources to drive myself down to Lillian, I was lost to Joe and the boys. And I hated myself every single day for it.

I read and reread the letter about the Carnation Festival. As far as I can tell, it's a pseudo-debutante ball designed to make the small-town girls of Lillian feel better about themselves. But what interests me is not the pageantry, but the fact that Mrs. Kaznyck, who I considered lost to the ages, has not only obtained my address, but sent me an invitation. She remembers me, and she wants me to come back.

She wants me to come home.

-x-

I work at the video store after school, ostensibly to help save money for college—if you can call the Lima campus of Ohio State 'college'. Three years of working there has helped me save enough, which is why I don't feel bad about withdrawing $150 for my Carnation Festival entrance fee.

In the few minutes I have between my shift and when Louis gets home, I bike to the post office and drop my money and my response down the mail chute.

-x-

_Dear Mrs. Kaznyck,_

_As I stated on the form, I will be attending the Carnation Festival as a visiting Duchess, although I'm not quite sure what that means or entails. I've guessed though that it means a lot of money and a lot of travel. _

_As you can tell, my father, Louis, is no longer very keen on Lillian. I think this is because of the incident back in '79. I, however, miss Lillian every day. I didn't spend much time at all with Charles and Joe and the rest of them, but at the time that I left, I think they were my best friends. _

_Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I really want to do this festival, but I don't have the money to do it beyond the $150 I just sent you. I don't have a car to drive myself down to Lillian either. I know Louis won't contribute a dime. If you could please cover my bus fare down to Lillian, I could make everything else work. And I would pay you back, if you'd be patient and willing. The best time to contact me is during weekdays between the hours of 3 and 4 pm at 4195679791._

_I really appreciate you thinking of me, and I'm really excited to do this festival. I'm dying to see what Lillian is like four years later._

_Please send Charles and Joe my best._

_Sincerely, _

_Alice Dainard_


	2. Chapter 2

The following Monday, the phone rings at 3:24 pm.

"Mrs. Kaznyck?" I blurt into the phone. For all I know, it could be our landlord. For some reason, though, I feel that it's her.

"Alice, honey!" The voice on the other line bleats, and I sigh heavily, leaning against the kitchen wall. I only ever talked to Mrs. Kaznyck when she volunteered for our sixth-grade class, but her voice stirs an acute longing in me for Lillian Middle School and sticky art projects. "Is there some new caller identification thing I don't know about?"

"No," I laugh. "I had a lucky guess."

"Well, it's wonderful to hear your voice," she says. "I'm so delighted that you decided to be a Carnation Duchess!"

"What is this, exactly?"

"The Carnation Festival. You and other Lillian girls will be presented to the town, and then there are a bunch of parties. Lillian girls are presented as Princesses and out-of-towners are presented as Duchesses. At the Coronation, one girl is picked to be the Queen of the Carnation Festival. I was a Princess my year, and Elizabeth Lamb was a Queen, I think, and when I looked at the old records, I saw your mom's name down as a Princess, too."

Mom. Monica. She changed my diaper for two years and then left to go live with her business executive boyfriend in Dayton. She came back for a few months when I was eight and tried to be a mom again. She failed and was back in Dayton by the time I was nine. That was when Dad really started getting fucked up.

"Oh, sorry honey," Mrs. Kaznyck says, sensing my silence on the other end. "I know they're a bit of a touchy subject. Jackson made a complete turn-around after the incident, though. He and Joe aren't perfect, but he's paying for the boy to go to Rhode Island School of Design! Can you believe it?"

Joe? Going out of state? "That's wonderful," I say, but there's a catch in my throat. The few Lima kids I hang out with are all staying in-state—in-city, in fact. But I remember Joe's models, and the way he explained different shades of grey with such fervor in his voice. He'll love it at RISD.

"I know, we're just so proud of him," Mrs. Kaznyck sighs. "But you'll get to talk all about it to him when you come down for Carnation. I read your letter and I'll come drive you to Lillian. We can get Peg's Carnation dress altered—or maybe you'll like Jen's better—and we'll work something out about hair and makeup—"

"You would really do all of that for me?" I cry.

"Oh, Alice, of course!" Mrs. Kaznyck exclaims. "I mean, Joe practically demanded that you participate in the Festival. Charles was very adamant too. The boys miss you, dear. Joe was really torn up that you didn't try to contact him after you moved."

"Louis never gave me the chance," I say in a small voice. Joe insisted?

Well, of course Joe insisted.

Joe and Charles were half in love with me leading up to that summer. Joe was quiet about it, giving me longing looks from behind the library stacks until I looked up and he looked away, startled. Charles was more up-front, always asking me to be in his history project groups and, eventually, in his movie. I said yes because I was bored, and because I knew he wouldn't stop asking me until I agreed.

Of course, I also said yes because of Mrs. Lamb. She'd died practically at my father's hand. I owed it to Joe, to all of them, to be in Charles's movie.

It hadn't occurred to me that they thought about me as much as I thought about them.

"Well, I'm sure that's all water under the bridge now," Mrs. Kaznyck says. "Now, would it be possible for you to come down to Lillian one weekend so I can get you fitted for your dress? I'm not sure if you're more of a Peg or a Jen in terms of body type."

I giggle. Peg was short and a little heavy; Jen was all legs and curves. I'd shot up miles since moving from Lillian, but I lacked Jen's voluptuousness.

"Can I come on a weekday instead?" I ask.

"Now, Alice, I know you're eager, but to skip school—"

"Great, I'll be there Wednesday around noon."

"But that's when—"

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Kaznyck!"

I hang up the phone and race to the video store. In two days, I'll be back in Lillian. And maybe, after this Carnation thing, I can find a way to stay for good.

-x-

I leave the house at 7:45 on Wednesday, but instead of heading for Lima Senior, I bike towards the Greyhound Bus station on High Street. My last paycheck from the video store pays for my ticket, and the bus departs an hour later, headed south. I doze most of the way, only jolting awake whenever they announce a stop.

The bus finally stops in Lillian and I hop off, disoriented. My bike is back in Lima, hopefully still chained to a tree outside the station. I have a little over forty dollars in my purse, and I have no idea how to get to the Kaznyck's house.

Main Street, however, is familiar enough. My eyes prick with tears as I take in Olsen's camera store, Layman's, and the Navy Surplus. I stare for a long time at the gap where the water tower stood. I assume they've built a new one, but a gap remains where the alien took the old one.

And then, I remember. You have to cut through the water tower lot and follow the steel plant to get to the neighborhood. I know that. I've always known that. However, without a bike, that route is useless, so I suck it up and enter Olsen's.

"You guys have a phone book?" I ask, heading for their rotary phone. The kid behind the counter stares at me for a solid minute before plopping a dusty yellow phonebook down on the counter.

"Thanks," I mutter, taking the book and flipping through it until I get to the K's.

"Mrs. Kaznyck?" I say as soon as she picks up the phone. "I'm at Olsen's. I'm so sorry, but would you mind picking me up? I'm ready to get fitted for the dress."

"Oh my Lord, Alice, I didn't think you were serious about coming here on Wednesday," Mrs. Kaznyck says, exasperated. "But if you're here, I'll come get you in about ten minutes."

"Thank you," I say, hanging up the phone. The kid behind the counter is still staring.

"Yeah?" I snap.

"You're Alice Dainard, aren't you?" he asks, although it's more of an assertion than a question.

"Yeah," I reply. "How'd you know?"

"I…Sherriff Pruitt was my granddad," he explains. "I'm Christian. I go to Sinclair on Tuesdays and Thursdays." I nod. Sinclair is the community college in Dayton. "I kind of took over the job when Donny left."

"I liked him," I sigh. "They always say he had the best pot."

Christian laughs uncomfortably, and a brown Chevy Holden Torana that is unmistakably Mrs. Kaznyck's pulls up to the curb outside. I wave goodbye to Christian and rush outside.

"So good to see you," she murmurs as I slide into the passenger seat. "Although I must say, Alice, that I really don't approve of you coming down here on a school day. You didn't hitchhike down here, did you?"

"I took a Greyhound bus," I say.

"I don't really think that that's safe, especially with all of these missing children on the milk cartons," she says. "It's 1983, you can't just let kids run around like that anymore, especially not in Lima."

I stifle a laugh, but I know she's right. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kaznyck."

"We'll worry about it later," she says. "What do you think of Lillian?"

I rest my head against the window, watching other Chevys and Fords race by. "It hasn't changed much."

"The government paid for the repairs," Mrs. Kaznyck explains. "The train station needed to be rebuilt, and we needed a new water tower…they replaced a lot of appliances and such. Oh, and they rebuilt the houses that caught fire. They weren't happy, I think, about whatever it was getting away, but they didn't talk about it either."

I remember some of this from before we moved, but she's right—no one ever talks about Lillian. The only papers that ever talked about the incident were Lillian newspapers, which I salvaged during the move and saved for my wall. When I first came to Lima Senior, most people had never even heard of my hometown.

Mrs. Kaznyck pulls into the driveway of their ranch-style home, and we enter through the back door. She leads me into a small room that must have once been Jen's—a David Cassidy poster is glued to the powder pink wall.

"Jen used to just love that boy," Mrs. Kaznyck sighs. "But she's at Ohio University now, so this is my sewing room. Since Princesses wear white at the Festival and Duchesses have to wear something colorful, I pulled out their old prom dresses for you."

Jen's dress is a glittery pink affair: tight bodice, spaghetti straps, and a long, layered skirt. Peg's dress is simpler and much more to my taste: baby blue with cap sleeves and a square neckline. I smile shyly and point at Peg's.

"I thought so," Mrs. Kaznyck says. "Jen was always so…ostentatious. And those shorts she always insisted on wearing. Horrendous. Now slip this on and step up here."

Peg was taller than I thought but bigger in the bust; the dress does not need to be hemmed but does need to be taken in. Mrs. Kaznyck produces a pair of matching heels. I smile and wonder what my own mother wore.

"You're really generous to do all of this for me," I say as Mrs. Kaznyck helps me step out of the dress.

"Like I said, it was all Charles and Joe," she replies. "I'm just the Duchess Chairman."

I laugh right as the back door slams. A rowdy chorus of voices fills the house, and Mrs. Kaznyck purses her lips. Within minutes, her eldest son has materialized in the doorway.

"Mom, I—" Charles pauses, his mouth agape.

He's not exactly fat, but he is big-boned—built like a football player, and judging by his red letterman jacket, he probably is. His mess of chestnut brown hair is in need of a cut, but his brown eyes glow with warmth and confidence. From his rosy cheeks to his just-visible biceps, Charles Kaznyck has become quite gorgeous.

"Charles, honey, you remember Alice Dainard, right?"


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the sweet reviews! I'll keep updating when I can.

* * *

Charles says nothing and merely stares. I nervously smooth out my blouse. I wonder what he sees, what about me is different to him.

"Nice to see you," he grunts before stalking off to his bedroom.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Kaznyck sighs. "Go talk to him."

"I should be getting back," I say, and Mrs. Kaznyck shakes her head.

"What's your father's work number, dear?" Since I know that he'd find out sooner or later, I tell her, and enter Charles's bedroom.

At one point, he shared the room with Benji, but he now has the place to himself. One half of the room is filled with tearouts from movie magazines, while the other half is filled with various Lillian High School Fighting Cardinals memorabilia.

"I really wish I could say I was happy to see you, Alice, but you've been kind of a royal bitch for the past four years," Charles says by way of greeting. I flinch. I wasn't expecting him to still be angry.

"The Case got third place at the film festival that summer," he continues. "Not that you'd care. My other films went farther." I take note of the little gold trophies on his dresser.

"I didn't choose this," I explain. "I came home one day and my dad already had the house packed up. He threw out the phone books. He yelled at me whenever I tried to call information. I'm sorry; I gave up. But I promise you, I never forgot."

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, and finally looks up at me. "I always knew you wouldn't. That's why I had Mom send you the Carnation thing. We thought—we knew you missed us."

I smile, and sit down on the bed next to him. It seems only natural that I take his hand, and I hold it for a long time, neither of us saying anything.

From the kitchen, we hear Mrs. Kaznyck's raised voice. "Louis, she put down the deposit with her own money. I have already reserved her a spot in the program and she's been assigned an escort. If you all try to back out of this now, then you owe me four hundred dollars." Charles squeezes my hand, and I keep listening. "That's what I thought. She will be staying the night here and I will drive her back to Lima in the morning. Thank you."

I quickly drop Charles's hand as Mrs. Kaznyck enters the room.

"I don't trust you going back on that Greyhound bus this late, so you're more than welcome to stay the night in Jen's old room," she says. "I think Peg's pajamas will fit you."

I get up and hug Mrs. Kaznyck hard.

"Thank you," I whisper, and she gently pats my back.

-x-

I spend the rest of the evening wondering when I'll get to see the rest of them—Cary, Preston, Martin, and Joe. Charles receives half a dozen phone calls before and after dinner, but no matter who's on the other line, he tells them no, they cannot come over tonight.

Mr. Kaznyck is as friendly as ever, asking me if I'm excited for the Carnation Festival and where I'm going to college in the fall. He proudly states that Charles is headed off to Ohio State at Columbus on a football scholarship. I congratulate him over dessert, which his parents decline in favor of Dan Rather.

"Yeah, my academics aren't that great, so I knew it was the only way I could get in," Charles explains. "I'll have to play football all four years, I think, but I'm going to major in film. It's not California, but I'll get out there eventually."

"Did you see _E.T._?" I ask.

"Is that even a question?" Charles says through a mouthful of chocolate pie. "Joe and Cary and I saw it about eight times. Joe cried like a little bitch every time, too."

Of course Joe did. So did I. Half my paychecks went towards that movie. The way Elliot was connected to E.T. is the way Joe and I were connected to the alien.

"How is Joe?" I ask. I'm not sure if I really want the answer.

Charles shrugs. "He's fine. He paints and sculpts all the time. I had him start doing backdrops for some of my films. All he talks about is RISD. Oh, and he's got some redhead sophomore hanging after him, but I don't think he's interested."

I scowl despite myself. It's not like I've spent the past four years being pure and chaste, but I just can't picture Joe with anyone that way. Charles chuckles.

"What about you?" I ask. "Girlfriend?"

Charles smirks and leans back in his chair. "Yeah, Sarah Morgan. She'll be in the Carnation too. I'm her escort."

I nod and then blush, thinking about how I held his hand earlier. Charles gives me a sympathetic smile, and I know that he doesn't think anything of it.

"What do escorts do?"

"We're glorified dancing partners," Charles sighs. "We stand by you supportively while you curtsey to the audience."

I shudder delicately. "I don't curtsey."

"We'll have to practice, then," Mrs. Kaznyck speaks up from the couch. Charles and I roll our eyes simultaneously.

"Sorry, but it's 7:30, and I promised Sarah I'd meet her at Olsen's," Charles says, scraping his chair back and reaching for his car keys. I open my mouth to volunteer to come along, but I then realize that this is one of those couple things. I'm not invited.

I retire to the sewing room with one of Charles's old yearbooks. I look up Sarah first. Even when she was thirteen, she looked like Jean Shrimpton, and now the resemblance is even more pronounced. Preston's still ghostly pale with a mop of black hair. Martin looks older than anyone in their grade, and he's outgrown his glasses. Cary's braces are gone, but his buck teeth are still pronounced. The few girls I hung around have lost their baby fat and their atrocious 1970s feathered haircuts.

And then there's Joe. His hair still falls in his eyes, but his smile is as wide and white as ever.

He's gained some confidence since I left.

-x-

Mrs. Kaznyck wakes me up about a half-hour after Charles and the boys leave for school. The whole drive back to Lima she outlines the Carnation Festival for me while occasionally throwing in a safety lecture.

"The Festival is during the last weekend in April, which is a little over two months away," Mrs. Kaznyck says. "Like I said, I'll pick you up and take you to Lillian. I shudder to think of the people you met on that Greyhound bus."

I shrug and stare out the window. The farther I move away from Lillian, the worse I feel. I can't stand the thought of returning to my boring school and lackluster job. If I packed up and left today, my friends wouldn't miss me—and I wouldn't miss them.

However, it's Louis's reaction when I get home that makes me the most nervous.

"Thank you so, so much, Mrs. Kaznyck," I say as she drops me off in front of our one-story. "I'm so sorry you had to drive all the way out here."

"It's no problem," she says. "I needed to go to Sears anyway. The twins need some new shorts." She waves goodbye and I stay rooted to the sidewalk, wanting to run after her.

When I finally enter the house, Louis is waiting for me with a scowl on his face.

I think that Louis always thought that getting out of Lillian would bring us closer together. For me, it widened the rift between us. He doesn't drink as much, but we're still as estranged now as we were in 1979.

He staggers over to me, and I think he's going to hit me, but instead he sighs, and all the fight goes out of him.

"You're eighteen," he says. "I knew that it'd happen someday."

We stare at each other for a long time, and then I retreat to my room.


	4. Chapter 4

When I open my mailbox on April 2nd, a flurry of pastel-colored envelopes fall out and collect at my feet.

I don't get excited over girly things, but these invitations are so exquisite that I cannot help but gasp when I open them. Ribbons, cardstock, and calligraphy spell out my schedule for the weekend of the Carnation Festival. I am invited to pool parties, get-to-know-you parties, and cotillion balls. All the while, I must be dressed in my Sunday best.

As much as I despise dressing up, the invitations make the days go by faster. I pin each one to the wall above my desk, and they act as silent motivators. I have to finish my coursework, I have to clean my room, I have to go to my shift at the video store before I can return to Lillian.

Quite suddenly, it's April 28, and Mrs. Kaznyck is waiting outside our house. I'll be staying the whole weekend with her.

I'm lugging my suitcase out the door when Louis enters the front hallway.

"The first time I saw Elizabeth was at the Carnation Festival," Louis says. "She was the prettiest damn thing I ever saw."

This confirms what I already know: Louis loved Monica, but he _loved_ Elizabeth.

"You should've married her, Dad," I mumble. The screen door slams shut behind me.

-x-

The drive is long, but it always is when you're anxious about where you're going. When we finally pull up in the Kaznyck's driveway, I feel myself breathe for the first time in two hours.

"Mrs. Kaznyck, who's my escort?" I ask as we unload my suitcase. "On the forms it said that the Festival ladies pick an escort for you if you're a Duchess."

"I'm not sure, Alice," she says. "I'd have to ask the Escort Chairmen. But you know all the young men here in Lillian. Anyone you get will be lovely."

"I guess so," I say as I open the front door. I am immediately accosted by camera and a boom mike.

"What the hell?" I snap, trying to bat the mike away.

"We're doing a documentary on debutantes!" Charles announces from behind the camera. "Well, you're not a real debutante, but we're doing one on the Carnation Festival. How does it feel to be back in Lillian?"

"Cary?" I say, squinting at the kid attached to the boom mike.

"Hey, Alice," he replies. I push the boom mike out of the way and hug him hard. Preston waves at me from the living room, and I hug him too.

"Well?" Charles says, zooming in on my face.

"I'm home," I say before flopping onto the couch next to Preston.

"Great," Charles says before shutting off the camera. "You always were a natural, Alice."

I giggle. "Is that the same camera from before?"

"Yeah," Charles sighs. "I'm saving up for a Betacam, though."

I nod even though I have no idea what that means. "Where are Martin and Joe?"

"Joe's visiting his grandparents in New Lebanon," Preston explains. "Martin's at tutoring. We're all going to the diner at 5."

I grin and kick my legs up on the coffee table. It's like I never even left.

-x-

"Tell me, Alice," Charles says, pointing the camera at my face. "How does a girl get ready for the most important weekend of her entire life?"

"She eats as much as she possibly can, as fast as she can," I say through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

"Hey Charles, do you like seafood?" Cary asks, and I grin. I know what's coming next.

"Yes, Cary, I do enjoy seafood."

"Then SEE FOOD!" Cary and I shout together, sticking our tongues out for the camera.

"Gross," Martin groans at the sight of our half-chewed meals.

"Did you tell Alice about how you barfed blue the other day, Smartin?" Cary asks. Martin turns red and kicks him under the table.

"He ate all of the cookies at our Spanish class fiesta last week," Preston explains. "The cookies had colored icing and he ended up puking blue all over the second floor bathroom."

"We're going to do a film study of your puke someday, Martin," Charles says, and Martin punches him in the arm. Charles just laughs and punches him back.

"Are all of you escorts for Carnation Festival?" I ask.

"Yup," Martin replies, eager for a subject change. "I'm with Carolyn Collins."

"Hailey Ross," Cary says.

"Eleanor Knightley," Preston chimes in. I nod. Carolyn and Hailey I knew well enough. Eleanor was always a tad too snotty to talk to me.

"Who's your escort?" Martin asks, and I shrug.

"Mrs. Kaznyck doesn't know," I say. "Hey, who's Joe going with?"

"Anna Grey, I think," Charles replies before vigorously digging back into his fries. I frown and continue eating my burger.

We leave a pile of fives and tens on the table and head out.

"Remember when you used to drive us around, Alice?" Preston asks as he opens the door for me.

"1968 Buick Skylark," I sigh. "My dad sold it to help buy our new house."

"Pity," Charles says as he starts up his own station wagon. "Where to next, kids?"

"The drive-in in Dayton is showing _Close Encounters_," Martin suggests.

"Done," Charles says. "We gotta pick up Sarah first, though."

Preston gives a small sigh and moves from the passenger seat to the back. With the four of us squished in the back, I more or less end up on Cary's lap. At the first speed bump, I nearly hit my head on the ceiling, and Cary wraps his arms around my waist to keep me steady.

We arrive at Sarah's house, and Charles honks the horn twice. Sarah skips out of her front door wearing pink and green pants and a white polo shirt. Her hair is tied back in the biggest bow I've ever seen.

Charles is completely head-over-heels for her. She greets him with a quick kiss and a loving look before turning to scrutinize me.

"Hi, Alice," she says. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah," I say nervously. She looks at me for a while longer, like she's expecting me to say something more, then turns back to Charles.

"Where are we going tonight?"

"The drive-in in Dayton," Charles says. "_Close Encounters_ is playing."

"Nice!" Sarah cheers.

"Don't you guys have school tomorrow?" I ask.

"Senior Skip Day," they chorus. I feel like the biggest loser ever. Cary awkwardly pats my upper thigh.

The drive is long, but the view is nice. The sun is setting, and the highway is bathed in a fiery glow.

When we reach the drive-in, Preston and Martin immediately get out of the car. I scoot off Cary's lap and we all sit in the grass by the front bumper.

"What's this all about?" I ask. Preston snickers and rolls his eyes.

"Charles has seen this movie a billion times," he says. "He's just hoping that Sarah will suck him off."

"Oh," I say, and we all turn to the screen.

I've seen this movie before too. Not a billion times, but twice. It played alongside _E.T._ a couple of times at the Lima theatres. A couple of my friends—the ones with actual, loving parents—always said that they couldn't _believe_ that Richard Dreyfuss just _left_ his _family_ like that for some _alien_. But I get it. Anyplace is better than here.

"It's so similar to what happened to us," Cary says quietly about forty minutes in.

I turn to look at him. When I think back on our time with the alien, I always picture me and Joe. I forget that Cary saw him too.

"It's the funniest thing," Cary laughs. "Joe and I kept calling him 'the alien', but we thought that was so, like, not personal so we started calling him Cooper. I used to call Joe up all the time and be like, 'How do you think Cooper is right now?' And he'd spout me some bullshit, but the weird thing is, I think he actually knew. I think he knew how Cooper felt. He still knows."

I just stare at Cary, speechless.

"Do you ever…do you ever feel like that? Like you know how Cooper feels?"

I swallow hard. "He shows up in my dreams at least once a week. Like, we're running, and he's running, and we're not really running from him, but we're not running with him, either. You can just feel all this pain and tension rolling off of him. Then we stop running and he's gone, and we don't know where he went. But I feel this peace come over me. I feel it come over all of us. And when I wake up, I know he's okay."

Cary's face is so close to mine.

"Good," he whispers, and we kiss.

It starts slowly at first, then builds and builds. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he runs his hands through my hair. Right as I begin to wonder what comes next, something in me snaps, and I pull away.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and he gives me a sad smile.

"It's okay," he says.

"No, it's not, I shouldn't have—"

"No, really, I understand." Cary sighs and leans back against the car. "Joe could have any girl in Lillian and no matter how many sophomores take off their top for him, he won't do it."

He won't do it. But it'd be selfish to think he wasn't doing it because of me.


End file.
